


Love Letters

by Xarixian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xarixian/pseuds/Xarixian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been getting some pretty explicit letters for a while now. He would call the police, but then he'd have to explain just why the notes are so well-read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ships_harry](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ships_harry).



> Originally posted over at the [AU Sam/Lucifer and JDM/Jared comment-fic meme](http://checkthemargins.livejournal.com/33937.html?thread=636305#t636305), filling a prompt for ships_harry.

Really, Sam thinks even as his fingers move to unfasten the button of his jeans, this is pretty fucked up. If he had an ounce of sense in his brain, he'd have been on the phone to the police weeks ago. He'd report this and the letters would stop and his life would go back to the way it was before—no getting up early to snatch the mail before Dean gets to it, no unfurling trepidation as he flips through the envelopes, no flood of heat through his body as he recognises Lucifer's neat print.

But he doesn't report it. Instead, he leans back in his chair and jacks himself slowly, eyes scanning the already well-thumbed paper in his hands.

At first, Sam had found the letters amusing, later troubling. He'd tried to ignore them, put them into his desk and locked them away. The more he ignored them, the more threatening the letters became and that … Well, that _really_ shouldn't turn Sam on, but …

He bites his lip, breathing hard and heavy as he picks up the pace, wondering if Lucifer is watching him right now. The blinds to the study are open and he's sitting at a deliberate angle so that Lucifer, if he's there, can get a good view, can see exactly what he's doing to Sam.

The window looks out onto the garden, which itself backs out onto woodland. Dean won't be home until late and unless someone's dog gets away from them and makes a beeline towards the house, no one will witness this. No one, except Lucifer.

Lucifer's letters have always been clear, vivid and detailed. He wants to hold Sam down and fuck him over his desk, wants to hear Sam moan and cry out. He'll tie Sam up, he says, and fuck him until he's raw and begging. He doesn't specify whether Sam will be begging for more or begging for him to stop, and really, Sam's not sure which idea turns him on more.

Lucifer won't play nice. He won't make sure Sam's okay and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. It will be hard and fast and probably painful, and Sam can't help it if the thought of that makes him cry out, hips faltering and come spilling hot and sticky over his hand.

Sam closes his eyes, catches his breath. He nervously hopes Lucifer was watching, that he liked what he saw and that there'll be a new letter waiting on the front mat in the morning. He wipes himself off with a Kleenex and folds the note carefully, almost reverentially, and places it back in the drawer, making sure to turn the key in the lock and slip it into his pocket, just in case Dean decides to go rooting through his things.

He has one foot on the first stair, about to head up and take a shower, when the doorbell rings.


End file.
